


It starts with a thought

by sakerattminnas



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakerattminnas/pseuds/sakerattminnas
Summary: One thought can change a life.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Na Jaemin, Na Jaemin & NCT Dream, Na Jaemin & Park Jisung
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	It starts with a thought

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags. If you think this might be triggering for you, click away.  
Don’t use this story as a tool to harm yourself. Please.

It starts with one thought: _What’s the point?_

It doesn’t stop him from going to practice, going to the recording studio, working out, and everything else people expect from him. But the thought stays in the back of his head through all of it.

He doesn’t have a good answer.

* * *

It starts getting difficult to get up in the morning, but since he’s usually the first up anyway nobody notices. He starts going to bed earlier, trying to make it easier. It doesn’t help. One morning, he can’t bring himself to get up until lunch. He thinks the others might notice something’s up, but they only make vague jokes about what he must have been up to last night to be getting up so late.

But he hadn’t stayed up late. He’d gone to sleep at eight. Twelve hours later he’d been woken by his alarm, and after silencing it, gone back to sleep for another five. He’s never slept this much before in his life, but he still feels tired. He goes to bed again after dinner, while the others are arguing about what film to watch.

He doesn’t think they notice, and doesn’t even know whether he wants them to or not.

* * *

He keeps thinking about the question, and at this point it’s evolved into several different ones. He wonders if anything he does will actually make him happy, or even really make any difference in the world. There are so many terrible things in the news. Global temperatures are still rising, there are still starving people in the world, people kill each other, people kill themselves, China is committing genocide and no one cares, Australia is on fire, there might be a war between the US and Iran, and so much more. He thinks things have gotten better in the last twenty years, but sometimes it’s hard to believe that means things will keep improving.

It might be too late for the climate, even if everything else is still going to be salvageable in ten years.

It all makes him want to lay down and not get up again.

It makes him want to go out and tell them to _do_ something. The government, all the authorities, the adults, but then he’ll remember that _he’s_ an adult right now and that there are things he could do, but won’t, because it’s not convenient for him, because it’s not something allowed on this path that he’s on. It would mean resistance from the industry he’s in, it would mean giving up so much, and he doesn’t think he could bear it. He doesn’t want to be reminded of this, Because it feels like in that case he might just as well kill himself, if it would benefit the world. But he doesn’t want to.

At least he doesn’t… think he does?

* * *

He hates himself every time he does something he knows shouldn’t.

When he gets on a plane for their next concert, he thinks the world really would be better off if he were dead, and maybe what he’s doing is going to ruin the future for billions of people. He knows the worst of it won’t affect _him_, and it makes him feel worse.

When he teases Jisung he hates himself because he knows it’s mean and selfish. He’s not doing it to make Jisung happy, he knows. He’s doing it because _he_ wants to.

When he says something that doesn’t get the reaction he hoped, and they have to change the subject, he hates himself because this is a part of his job and if he can’t do it correctly then _what’s the point?_ He should probably stop trying altogether.

He tells himself he doesn’t actually hate himself, just his undesirable qualities. Which is a good thing, because you have to know which parts of yourself are bad to be able to change them.

But he knows he won’t change them.

* * *

He still smiles, he still laughs. It leaves him exhausted after, feeling heavy with a feeling he hesitates to call sadness, because it feels like an insufficient word to describe what’s growing inside him. It’s an empty feeling, a void, eating everything in its path. He wonders if it’ll eat the guilt, too. He hopes it will.

He starts saving his smiles and his laughter for when he’s working; When there are cameras. He doesn’t have the energy to deal them out like free candy anymore, he needs to ration them. He redirects attention from it by telling jokes and acting weird to get the others to laugh.

Nobody thinks it’s strange when he doesn’t laugh at himself.

* * *

He doesn’t believe in an afterlife, so if he died, he thinks it would just be like he was never there at all, for him. There’d be no more _him_. His consciousness would be gone, the only ones suffering would be the people mourning him. Dying would make so many people mourn him.

This is now his primary motivation for staying alive. He doesn’t want to hurt them.

This means hurting himself instead. (There is no way to keep everyone unhurt, and it makes him feel trapped.) He starts ripping the dry skin off his lips when he feels himself slipping, and the sting feels so good. Nobody notices, because his lips were always dry and bleeding anyway.

* * *

He stops exercising, except for practice. There’s no incentive to go, because it only affects him.

They notice.

He tries to be vague when they ask questions, but he can tell they’re not satisfied. He overhears Jisung tell Renjun Jaemin’s been ignoring him, and he doesn’t know why. _He hasn’t cooked in a while either_, Jisung whispers.

For the first time in weeks, Jaemin feels.

Jaemin feels-

He rips a piece of skin off his upper lip. It always hurts more on the upper lip than on the lower lip. Jaemin doesn’t know why. He focuses on this as he walks to his, _their_, room.

He thinks he feels sadness at Jisung’s words, but also anger. What does he _want_? Jaemin thought Jisung didn’t _like_ his teasing. Also, Jaemin doesn’t owe him his cooking. Is Jisung still too much of a child to understand that? Anger burns through Jaemin’s chest like fire.

He considers that Jisung probably doesn’t think about the effort it takes to cook and take care of others, never mind yourself. It makes him angrier. He’s so angry he doesn’t know what to do with himself all of a sudden. He feels like punching a wall, but they’d hear. He thinks about punching himself, but recoils from the thought of his fist hitting flesh.

It would only leave bruises the others would see, anyway. He holds up his hand in front of his face, trying to think of a way to let all of this _feeling_ out. He thinks he might _need_ to let it out, because he’s unused to feeling anything at all.

Holding up his left hand in front of his face, he considers what he could do with it to let out all the anger still buzzing under his skin. It’s steady, and Jaemin knows he doesn’t look angry. But he doesn’t really want to; He doesn’t want the others to know. All of a sudden, he knows what to do.

He puts his pointer finger lengthwise between the molars on the right side of his mouth and _bites down_.

It helps.

He sits there, stupidly, with a finger in his mouth, until he feels the anger give way to sadness. A sob wracks its way up his throat and he focuses all his efforts on not making a sound. Hiding under the covers, crying his heart out, and thinking _whywhywhywhywhy_, Jaemin thinks he wishes he could be a little less or a little more selfish, anything but this _middle_.

* * *

Jeno and Renjun wake him and tell him they’re worried. He hides beneath the duvet and refuses to talk to them. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to talk.

He doesn’t want to talk.

Jeno rips the duvet from his hands and off the bed. Jaemin stares at him, feeling naked. He’s not, physically, but he feels _seen_, in this viscerally uncomfortable way.

“What the fuck!” He says, but comes out like a shout. Renjun looks at both of them, shocked.

Jisung is in the doorway now, and the look on his face is one that warns that he’ll cry if somebody doesn’t reassure him soon. Jaemin is very familiar with that look. Often, it’s him getting Jisung somewhere quiet and fussing over him.

He looks away.

“We’re worried,” Renjun says. “We just want you to tell us what’s wrong.” Jeno is still holding the duvet.

Jaemin doesn’t want to talk to them about this. Jaemin doesn’t want to talk about this. Jaemin can’t talk about this. He gets up, careful to avoid touching Jisung on his way out the door, and walks to the bathroom, where he locks the door behind him.

It’s not a permanent solution, but it’ll do for now.

He sits on the bathroom floor and thinks about nothing.

* * *

Someone knocks on the door again. Jaemin can feel the reverberations through his back where he’s leaning against it. He doesn’t answer; It’s the quickest way of getting them to go away, he’s learnt.

It’s one of the managers, this time. “Is there anything I can get you, so you’ll come out and talk?”

(Jaemin feels offended at the thought of them bribing him, like he’s a child. But he has to admit he’s certainly acting like it. He holds his tongue.)

It takes maybe half an hour for a different manager to try his hand. “If you don’t come out, you’ll miss dinner.”

(Jaemin _knows_ that. He’s willing to take the consequences. If he came out now it would be humiliating, he couldn’t bear it. He’ll willingly skip dinner if it means not facing anyone right now.

He doesn’t say any of that.)

They leave him alone for an hour, two, three…

Jaemin sneaks out once he feels like there’ll be no one there. And he’s right, there’s no one in the hall. He walks to his room with quiet steps. He makes it there without anyone seeing him, and notices the duvet is back on the bed. He curls up underneath it and falls asleep.

* * *

He wakes up to Jisung sitting by his bed, phone in hand. He’s leaning his elbow on the bedframe and his head is tipped back against the wall.

Jaemin doesn’t speak, so it takes a while before Jisung notices he’s awake. “Practice is cancelled for today,” he says, then, and there’s something fragile about him now. He brings a hand up but aborts the motion before Jaemin can figure out what he’d meant to do with it. It’s an awkward gesture. Jisung locks his phone, putting it face down on the floor carefully.

Jaemin looks at him some more, then turns around to face the wall.

“Hyung,” Jisung says, and there is something in his voice Jaemin doesn’t like. It reminds him of a child who’s gotten lost, asking for help to find his parents. Not that he’s Jisung’s parent. Just, there’s a watery and fearful colour to Jisung’s words, and Jaemin can’t help it. He makes a questioning noise, to show he’s heard Jisung.

“Can I… can I lie down with you?”

Jaemin doesn’t see why not. He thinks that if Jisung wants to talk, it won’t be difficult to stop him. “Okay,” he says. Jisung hurries to climb up over him. He lies down facing Jaemin, curling up tight with his face pressed to Jaemin’s collarbone; Jaemin puts his arms around him tentatively. He feels out of practice at this.

Jisung sniffs a little, and Jaemin doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks Jisung might be crying.

* * *

Donghyuck enters the room quietly. He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it.

Jaemin has his back to the wall, and Jisung’s back to his chest. It gives him a good view of Donghyuck, who is showing no emotion on his face. This, Jaemin feels, does not bode well.

“Do you need to-” Donghyuck starts. He doesn’t continue.

“What.”

Donghyuck puts his lower lip between his front teeth, not quite biting down. There’s uncertainty on his face. “…Talking. Do you need to talk? It doesn’t have to be me?” His words are tentative, which stings. Jaemin doesn’t like the implications of being tip-toed around, but he knows it might be necessary. It still irritates him.

He’s careful with his wording when he replies. “I don’t want to talk.”

Donghyuck’s eyes snap to his face and narrow slightly; He knows evasion when he hears it. Jaemin braces himself.

“But do you _need_ to?”

Jaemin closes his eyes. “Maybe,” he whispers. “I don’t know.” He feels Jisung move in his arms, probably waking up.

“Who will you talk to? Will you talk to me, right now, or do I need to get someone else?” There’s a pause, as Donghyuck waits for a reply. When he doesn’t get one, he adds, “Jaemin, all we want is for you to be alright.”

Jaemin doesn’t think this is true, he thinks what they want is for him to not have annoying and burdensome emotions, or lack thereof. What they want is for him to go back to normal. They don’t really want to know what he’s thinking. Anger and a wish to make someone feel like _he_ does, makes him say, “You’re fine.”

Donghyuck takes a breath and goes toward the bed. For a moment he thinks Donghyuck will tell him to get up, but instead he puts his hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “Jisung, you should go eat some lunch. I’ll stay here.”

The door closes behind Jisung, and Donghyuck sits down next to Jaemin on the bed. It means they don’t have to look at each other, which Jaemin feels absurdly comforted by. The silence stretches out uncomfortably. Donghyuck seems to agree, because he starts moving his feet restlessly.

“I’m not going to start,” Jaemin says, because it’s true.

“How am I-” Donghyuck stops himself. “Okay. You’re not okay, that’s obvious.”

Jaemin keeps quiet. He hadn’t thought it was _that_ obvious.

“Are you hurt again?”

Jaemin hadn’t been expecting that, so he says, “No?” before he can stop himself.

Donghyuck doesn’t relax beside him. “No, didn’t think so. I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but I really need to know: Are you thinking about killing yourself?”

Jaemin feels like someone just pushed him off the side of a building. He’s about to deny it, but he realises that he can’t. He can’t say yes either; The words get stuck in his throat.

Donghyuck must take the silence to mean he has, because he says, “Why?!”

Jaemin simultaneously feels enraged and exhausted. The exhaustion wins out, and he just sounds tired when he answers. “Because there’s no point. To anything. Everything sucks and there’s no point.” Every word spoken feels like pulling teeth. He is so tired.

“I don’t- _Jaemin_,” Donghyuck doesn’t sound surprised, per se, but he obviously wasn’t prepared. Jaemin doesn’t feel satisfied at all at shocking him. Somehow, it makes him feel _worse_. He didn’t think he had it in him to feel worse.

“You wanted me to talk.” He sounds sulky, even to his own ears.

Donghyuck sniffs. “You can’t expect me not to react to knowing that-” He sniffs again, and there’s the sound of swallowing, then a breath being let out. “I don’t know what to do, Jaemin. I don’t know how to help you.”

A sigh slips out as Jaemin turns around to face Donghyuck, who he sees isn’t crying, although it looks like he’s very close to it. He buries his head in Donghyuck’s thigh. “I know.” A hand lands on his head, resting there, heavy: anchoring him. Maybe it’s anchoring Donghyuck, too.

They stay there, silent, long enough for Jaemin to fall asleep, head resting heavily on Donghyuck’s thigh.

* * *

Donghyuck leaves Jaemin’s room after almost two hours, when Jisung goes to check on them, and it’s clear he’s been crying. He presses a hand to Jisung’s shoulder blade, telling him to go join Jaemin, then closing the door behind Jisung.

“Did he tell you what’s wrong?”

Donghyuck nods, rubbing the skin under his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “Hyung, he’s thought about kill- about killing himself. He’s no- He’s not okay at all.” He turns pleading eyes to their manager. They all wait for him to speak. He’s the adult; He’s supposed to have all the answers.

He interlocks his hands at the back of his neck and tilts his head forward until they can’t see his face anymore. After a few seconds he stands up; The change is so abrupt that Jeno almost flinches. “I have to go make a phone call."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a way to cope with a relapse. Depression never truly goes away; It changes you forever. I can’t tell you it’ll be okay, because it might not be. Even when I don’t feel depressed, I couldn’t give you a genuine reason for me to stay alive. But usually I still want to. I hope everyone who's reading this is doing okay.
> 
> I welcome discussion of this story, but please don’t ask me for advice about mental health. Please don’t tell me details of your own struggles.  
  
I wrote a lot of my actual experiences into this fic, and I realise it’s very revealing in terms of my psyche, but I still wanted to post it. (I swear it’s not deliberate that both of my saddest fics are about Jaemin, though.)  
  
If you’re still wondering what happens after this fic ends, I can tell you: Jaemin goes to therapy. He will never be the same as before, but he’ll want to live again. I’m really sorry I can’t give you more of a happy ending than that. At least not right now.  
  
Hopefully in the future I’ll have better experiences and I can return to this fic and write a happier ending. Until then, I wish you happiness in life, and leave you with this:
> 
> I know how you feel.


End file.
